The Root and the Bud
by Lli
Summary: Delving back into the pre-Artemis days, my attempt at a history for Root and Vinyáya.
1. Chapter 1

Another chaptered story! Man, nothing like exams to get the creative juices flowing. Basically, I wanted to explore an idea I'd had in one of my Root/Vinyáya drabbles, so I'm using the drabble to end this story, but in the interim, all new stuff! (My writing's getting incestuous...)

Watch out for swearing, references to sex, and lewd comments, ahead. LEP officers can be lame, what can I say?

* * *

**The Root and the Bud**

Chapter One: Green

They met at an LEP gala. Both prominent figures in office mythology, they arrived with the crowd's expectations in tow, clattering behind them like the empty cans tied to the cars of newlyweds.

He was Recon's golden boy, a little rough around the edges but a devil in the field and ever so handsome. She was the best pilot the Academy had ever seen. Though, secretly, they wished she would just bugger off. Honestly, how embarrassing: the Air force's best and brightest outflown by some lippy slip of a girl.

Skylar Peat couldn't have asked for a better set up.

Green was the big thing that year. Everyone's wife, girlfriend and/or mistress was wearing it. Dark, light, neon, lime, sequined, velvet, from above the ballroom looked like a giant patch of moss, crawling about on its spores. So, of course, she wore red.

A bit unoriginal as rebellions go, he said later. It didn't need to be original, it needed to be understood, she retorted.

Needless to say, with her dark skin and black hair, the dress was striking from afar. If you dared get close, the combination was nearly fatal.

He couldn't take his eyes off her. To be fair, neither could anyone else in the room.

Scared, the other men reverted to old tricks. They were just a bit too courteous, until their respect became a farce. Every door was held open, her chair pulled out for her at the table, drinks unnecessarily paid for. They smiled and smiled and, as soon as she was past, smirked at each other, silently making lewd hand gestures behind their wine glasses, as though afraid she could still see them.

The women, however, weren't afraid of her and had no qualms about airing their grievances vocally.

'I hear she used to be Apollonius' secretary,' Blossom Chavez, the Council Chairman's wife, told her companion with a pointed stare.

Olive Soreberry, the mistress of three different LEP generals, shook her head. 'Poor man. Frankly, I'd have promoted her just to _avoid_ having to sleep with her.'

Blossom giggled viciously, but raised her glass with a cheery smile as Vinyáya passed.

She was fending off a posse of fellow pilots when he came up to her. He wasn't sure why he chose to ask her with so many people around; a previously unknown love of public humiliation perhaps? To his credit, it was probably more of an often repressed chivalrous streak, surfacing at the sight of her tight, closed face and rigid shoulders.

'Would you care to dance?'

The pilots elbowed each other in the ribs, snickering. 'Good luck,' one particularly emerald sprite told him, 'she's tighter than dwarf's wallet.'

He ignored them.

She looked from him to her leering coworkers and back to him. Better the devil you knew was the common wisdom, but Vinyáya had always been an optimist. She nodded. The other pilots gaped, and even the elves looking a little green tinged around the edges as she placed her hand in Root's.

Willing his palms not to sweat and his legs not to shake, Root led her out onto the dance floor.

'I don't believe we've ever been properly introduced,' he said, gingerly bringing his hand up to her waist, 'but I've heard a lot about you. It's not often a socialite's little girl outpilots the Academy's top men.'

'No, it isn't often,' Vinyáya agreed. 'It would be very embarrassing for the LEP, otherwise.'

He snorted.

'And you can call me Vinyáya,' she smiled.

'Julius,' he returned the smile, white teeth bright in his dark face. Vinyáya had to agree with the secretaries: he really was terribly handsome.

People had begun to stare, whispering and pointing to their neighbours. Watching their agitation out of the corner of her eye, Vinyáya let her head rest in the curve of his shoulder, pressing herself closer than was really necessary. Above her head, Root smirked.

'I'd be flattered, but somehow I don't think you're getting so cuddly because of my brilliant wit and unrivalled good looks,' he muttered in her ear.

She stepped back, blinking. 'Touché,' she admitted.

He raised an eyebrow. The LEP pilots might all be slackers, but he, Julius Root, was not about to be outdone by some wee little girl. Without warning he spun her out into a complicated turn, whipping her back in and dipping her before she had a chance to catch her breath.

Eyes wide in surprise, she caught his smile and laughed. They whirled through the other dancers, getting more and more outrageous in their choreography. However, after the initial affront and its subsequent disapproval, their audience gradually grew bored watching them and moved onto other things. But by then they were no longer acting for others' benefit and didn't notice.

One dance became two and then three and four. Halfway through the night Vinyáya, suspicious of having so much fun, told him a story about a recent debacle involving her, a dwarf, two fellow pilots and one too many dirty jokes. She shot her mouth off in the telling, showing off a vocabulary more vulgar than the combined lexis of Root's entire squad. He didn't bat an eyelash, only snorted with laughter and told her, next time go for the eyes, not the knees. She looked down at her feet and smiled a very small, little girl's smile.

If asked, Root would name that as the moment he fell in love. Such a strange mix of cosmopolitan self-possession, locker room vulgarity and childlike delight.

After, in the muggy dark of Haven's early morning, they staggered along in each other's arms, both trying to keep the other upright while being themselves unable to stand. Coming to a stop at a deserted crosswalk, Vinyáya leaned away from Root, eyeing him with an expression he couldn't fathom.

'What?' he asked, eyeing her right back.

'Do you want me?' she replied, blunt.

He blinked, taken by surprise. But he told the truth. 'Yes,' he replied. 'But everyone does, so there's no point in asking. Shouldn't your line be: do you love me? Isn't that what girls want to hear?'

Vinyáya laughed, her long hair slipping further from its bun. 'You barely know me, Julius Root, how could you love me?' She smiled, 'Want is simpler, you don't need to know anything. And let's face it: men have terrible memories. They're not really made to do more than want. Bit like children really.'

'Careful,' Root wagged a finger, 'that smacks of bitterness.'

'I suppose it does,' she agreed. 'And what reason could I possibly have to be bitter?'

'Sarcasm is bad for the skin, Vinyáya.'

She laughed at that, letting him tug her forward again.

'Careful!' she lurched on the curb, 'I can hardly walk in these heels as it is.'

Root snorted. 'The heels are the least of your worries, woman. If the world was a fair place in which all livers were equal you would be out cold right now.'

Vinyáya grinned, 'There's another thing the LEP doesn't like to talk about. Not only can wee slips of girls outfly their best pilots, but they can outdrink their rowdiest captains. Oh dear, oh dear.'

They reached his house first. Vinyáya looked down the sidewalk in the vague direction of her own apartment with unconcealed dismay.

'You know, as a gentleman, I really shouldn't let you wander around alone in the dark,' Root told her, fishing for his keys.

'As a gentleman,' mocked Vinyáya. 'And, as a gentleman, how will you solve this problem?'

'Would you like to come up for coffee?'

'Coffee,' she echoed, disbelieving.

'I'm being a gentleman here.'

'Sorry, right, I forgot. I don't get much exposure to those.'

'Would you?'

'I don't drink coffee.'

'That's okay. I'm sure we can find a substitute.' His meaning was clear, but his face was calm and his voice was even. There was no leering, cheap lust making his fingers twitch, no trophy hunt desire in his eyes. Vinyáya stood on his doorstep and considered the fact that she might actually, in this singular instance, be wanted for herself, and nothing more. Well, there was a first time for everything. She smiled her little girl's smile and Root knew he'd won her over. Taking her hand, he led her up the stairs.

The next morning she sprawled in his sheets drinking tea and eating fruit salad. She felt decadent but satiate.

'Do you really feel that bitter?' he asked out of the blue, propping his head in his hand as he lay beside her.

She puckered her lips around a piece of kiwi, thinking. 'Not really,' she decided at length, 'just... lonely. And sick of being treated like some kind of drug. You know, everyone considers you a dirty habit but they want you anyway, and are ashamed of it.'

'I wouldn't be ashamed of you,' he said, before he could stop himself.

'No,' he voice was hard, 'you would flaunt me like some stupid prize. Look what I've caught, boys, the ice queen herself. She can barely keep her hands off me, let me tell you.'

He sat up, putting space between them. 'Would I?'

She put down her mug and peered into his face. 'You're offended,' she blinked, surprised. 'Have I offended you?'

'Yes.'

She looked down at the bowl of fruit in her hands. At his dark toes poking up from the end of the sheets. At his wounded sense of honour, filling up the space between them. And realised that his good opinion actually mattered to her.

'I'm sorry,' she took his face in her hands, running her fingers along his jaw. He watched her, unmoving. 'I suppose I'm as bad as the rest of them sometimes,' she continued. 'But tell me, Captain,' smiling now, 'what would you do with me?'

'Why don't you find out first hand?' he replied archly.

She raised an eyebrow. 'Is that a challenge, Captain Root?'

'It's an offer,' he corrected. 'One that comes with a manufacturer's guarantee.'

'Complete satisfaction or full money back before two weeks?'

'Something like that,' he murmured, reaching for her.

She smiled her little girl's smile.


	2. Chapter 2

The happy chapter.

* * *

Chapter Two: Subtleties

'Can we keep this secret?' she asked him later, as she shimmied back into her red dress.

'Why?' he was watching from the bed.

She shrugged, pulling on a shoe, 'I just... you know how people talk. I don't want people thinking you're doing me favours.'

'Fair enough,' he understood pride. He smiled suddenly. 'That could be kind of fun, actually. I wonder how conspicuous we could get before anyone notices?'

Piling her hair into a messy bun, Vinyáya laughed, 'What an interesting proposal, Captain. We should really look into that.'

'Yes,' he agreed, 'we should.'

* * *

'Why hello there, Captain, fancy meeting you here,' she said, as he leaned in to kiss her.

'Yes, what a coincidence,' he murmured, hands slipping into her trouser pockets.

Ten seconds later, when Captain Cudgeon and Corporal Thistledown came around the corner, Captain Root was helping Vinyáya gather the contents of her duffel bag. Gym wear, night vision goggles, Neutrino 1257.

'Sorry about that,' Root was apologizing, 'I was looking somewhere else entirely.'

'I bet you were,' Thistledown commented, smirking.

'I thought you Recon hotshots were supposed to be able multitask,' Vinyáya snapped back, rolling her eyes.

'Here, let me help you up,' Cudgeon offered her his hand, ever the charmer.

'Stow it,' she glared, rising gracefully to her feet, 'I'm not the clutz here. Why don't you help Root?'

'Boy, has she got a temper or what?' Cudgeon said as she walked away. 'But _Frond _what a great ass.'

'Mmm,' Root agreed, neutrally.

Thistledown shook his head, 'Count yourself lucky, that was nothing to what she did to Lieutenant Burberry when he tried to cop a feel after spilling coffee on her by accident. Man, he's _still _limping.'

Root said nothing, remembering her furious face, her hands gesticulating wildly as she told him that story over dinner, swearing a blue streak. And how, in the early morning, he had woken up to her crying.

Cudgeon shrugged. 'Still, you've got to admit, she's the best looking thing in a uniform this side of Atlantis. A lucky man whoever gets her, I bet she's fantastic in the sack.'

'Mmm,' Root agreed again, smirking.

* * *

'Instructor Vinyáya here to see you, sir,' the sprite saluted stiffly.

Root frowned, seemingly perplexed, 'Why?'

'Recent cadet flight scores, sir.'

'Oh d'Arvit, that's right. Wonderful,' Root rolled his eyes. 'Well? What are you waiting for? I don't have all day. Show her in, Corporal!'

'Of course, sir. Right away, sir.' The sprite hightailed it out of the office and, a moment later, Vinyáya entered. Her hair was out of its usual tight braid; heavy and dark, it caught on the fabric of her uniform in whorls and stripes.

'I've come to discuss the newest cadets,' she spoke louder than was necessary as she closed the door, locking it behind her.

'Have you now?' he asked, leaning back in his chair.

She snorted. 'Luckily for you, no,' she crossed to his desk, 'they're the most useless bunch of pimply brats I've ever had the misfortune of teaching.' Perching on the side of his chair, she tossed a disk onto the desk, 'But here're their video results, for your viewing pleasure.'

'We can watch it over dinner,' he smirked, running a hand through her hair.

'Sure, if you want to watch me upchuck all over the couch at the same time.'

'Such a charmer,' he commented, working on her uniform's buttons.

'What can I say? I learned from the best,' reaching for his belt.


	3. Chapter 3

In which things are less peachy keen. I swear the chapters'll get longer again...

* * *

Chapter Three: Misery

'Don't,' she said, as he leaned in to kiss her.

'Why not?'

'Someone'll see us.'

'And?'

'Well, I know it'll do wonders for your reputation, but it won't do anything for mine,' she crossed her arms over her chest.

'Vinyáya...' Root sighed, watching her pinched, unhappy face. 'We've been hiding this for years. Decades. You don't need to worry about your reputation. You've just been promoted for Frond's sake.'

'Do you really think that matters?' She laughed bitterly. 'I'll still be somebody's whore, some secretary sleeping her way up the ladder. Yet another feather in your cap.'

'You're _not,'_ he replied, still fierce though the argument was old and worn. 'Any of those things.'

'But that's how they'll see it. 'Recon Commander pulls strings to get his girlfriend promoted',' she runs her braid through her hands.

He takes her by the shoulders and shakes her gently. 'Cut it out. We're not a hundred anymore. Sure, sneaking around was fun at first. But it's been nearly a century and you'll still barely speak to me in public. If nothing else, you are my best friend. I should be able to enjoy your company without having to look over my shoulder ever five seconds. This is miserable. This _nuts_.'

'I can't,' she whispered. 'You don't understand. I've worked decades for this promotion. I have fought _so hard..._ I can't lose all that now.'

'You won't.' Stepping away from her, he lit a cigar. 'People are always going to talk, you know that. You've given them no reason to say all the things they've said over the years, but they've said them anyway. There is nothing to be ashamed of here. Unless you're ashamed of me?' he asked, eyebrows raised.

'Don't be ridiculous. And when did you start smoking fungus cigars? They smell terrible,' she wrinkled her nose.

'Three months ago, but seeing as I haven't really seen you since before Christmas, I'm not surprised you haven't noticed.' The smoke hung around their heads, obscuring their vision. Now they had an excuse not to look each other in the eye.

'Christmas _was_ three months ago.'

'Yeah, well, nothing as depressing as spending Christmas alone when your girlfriend lives fifteen minutes away.'

'Would you stop guilt tripping me? My father was in town, I had to go see the family. You know I didn't want to, but he only comes by every other century.'

'And Frond forbid you bring me to the meet the family.'

'Julius...' her tone betrayed just how old this argument was.

'Forget it, I've got a meeting to go to.' He flicked ash onto the ground in a show of crude bravado, 'See you around, Wing Commander.'

Vinyáya let her head fall back against the wall with and audible thump. 'D'Arvit,' she whispered.


	4. Chapter 4

The really unhappy chapter. Happy New Year! Sorry this took so long, I had the audacity to get a life!:P

* * *

Chapter Four: Late

'Where've you been?' he asked as she came in, two hours late.

'Council stuff,' she shrugged out of her jacket, 'they ran behind, sorry.' Her voice had all the thoughtless callousness of the very intimate.

'Right. Well, dinner's cold,' he told her.

'It's take out anyway, we can just reheat it.'

'Go ahead, I ate already.'

'Well, thanks.'

'You're _two hours _late.'

'Yeah, and you've never left me hanging before either,' she bristled, angry because she knew she was in the wrong. 'Never once called in with an 'Oh sorry, rogue Troll, maybe tomorrow'.'

'At least I call.'

'Right, and what exactly was I going to say? Excuse me, I know we're passing a law here, but could I duck out for a minute, I need to phone Julius. What, you mean you didn't know I've been sleeping with him for the past two hundred years? Oops! My bad.'

'If you weren't so stuck on this ridiculous secrecy-'

'It isn't ridiculous.'

'It's absolutely ridiculous. No one cares. You're a hard worker, you're good at your job, no one gives a swear toad's tongue.'

'Correction, if I were a _man, _no one would care. Don't know if you've noticed or not, but unfortunately, I wasn't blessed with a penis. Oh darn.' Her face hardened, 'And I'm going to spend the rest of my life being punished for some d'Arvitting chromosome.'

'Get over yourself,' Root spat. Once refreshing, the blunt vulgarity of her anger now repulsed him. 'The only thing keeping us a secret is you and your overblown pride. You're just too proud to admit that you can love too, like the rest of us poor shmucks.'

'Too proud? _My _over blown pride? Oh, that's rich, Mr. I Am the Most Heroic Thing This Side of Tir Na Og. Always puffing out his chest, flaunting those acorns, getting up to the most pathetic displays of machismo, and he tells me _I'm _too proud,' furious, she swipes hair out of her face. 'You have _no idea _what it's like to be me, to have to fight for every single little thing. I work harder in a day that you ever have in your life. So why shouldn't I be proud of where I am? Or are women not allowed to do that either?'

'That isn't what I meant,' but he knew she wasn't listening and that his original meaning didn't matter in the least. She was still talking, hands waving, face nearly as red as his.

'I wanted to marry you,' he said suddenly, interrupting.

She was caught mid-sentence with her mouth open to speak. She shut it with a snap. 'What?'

'You heard me.'

'You can't be serious.'

'Yes, why under the earth would I want to marry the person I love? What a thought! But you're right, I'm not serious. Once upon a time, maybe. But right now all I really want is for you to get out.' He licked his lips, swallowing, knowing he was about to break his own heart, 'It's over, Vinyáya.'

She went perfectly still. In one hand she still held her jacket. Without another word she put it back on and walked out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks to (guess who!) ilex-ferox, master beta.

* * *

Chapter Five: Short

'Watch out!'

'Oof! D'Arvit!'

'Sorry, I-' he paused, frowning, 'I actually didn't see you there.'

Vinyáya looked up from where she knelt on the floor, collecting her things. 'Right,' she said, disbelief plain on her face.

'No, honestly,' Root stooped to help her, body already going through the motions, though it had been years since they had played this game. 'Sorry,' he repeated, quietly.

'Doesn't matter,' she replied, distracted, focusing too hard on picking up her things without touching him. Not easy when every bit of her was clawing its way towards him. She wondered if he could hear her atoms mewling their loss, crying with helplessness at being so terribly close - and still worlds away.

He licked his lips, handing her what he'd gathered. He made to help her up but she was already rising.

'I'll... I'll be seeing you then, Wing Commander,' he straightened his uniform, trying for at least a semblance of formality.

'Undoubtedly,' she replied, equally frosty. Just as desperate to maintain the distance their bodies refused to grant.

* * *

But Root and Vinyáya were two of a kind. So long enmeshed in one another, their minds had grown together and, like their bodies, found it difficult to separate. More often than they cared to think about, they found themselves back to back, fighting their colleagues. Both too proud, too honourable, to switch sides simply to avoid one another, they channeled their pain and frustration into their arguments. Council members were often shocked at the passion with which Wing Commander Vinyáya and Recon Commander Root argued their points.

'It's really unnecessary for them to get so worked up,' Blossom shook her glossy head at the ever present Olive. They were sitting in the visitors' gallery, waiting for the session to end so they could collect their husbands (Olive having traded in her three generals for a Councilman two centuries ago). 'I mean, they've always been excitable but honestly, these days it's getting to be a bit much, especially with his blood pressure. He should be more careful.'

'It's all repressed sexual tension,' Olive replied, without looking up from filing her nails, 'she's clearly infatuated with Julius. Do you remember that night they danced together, when he was still just a Captain? She's probably been pining after him ever since. Poor thing: obviously he wouldn't be interested. Back when he was young he had nearly everyone, after all.' Olive spoke from personal experience.

'Alright, but what about him? What's gotten into him?' Blossom swilled her martini.

'That,' Olive waved her nail file, 'is the mystery.'

* * *

'Wing Commander Vinyáya here to see you, sir,' the gnome saluted stiffly.

Root frowned, perplexed, 'Why?'

'Recent cadet flight scores, sir.'

'Oh d'Arvit, that's right. Wonderful,' Root rolled his eyes. 'Well? What are you waiting for? I don't have all day. Show her in, Corporal!'

'Of course, sir. Right away, sir.' The gnome hightailed it out of the office and, a moment later, Vinyáya entered. Her dyed hair was tightly braided, lying flat down the back of her uniform. She said nothing as she closed the door behind her and crossed to the desk.

Root puffed away silently on a cigar, face emotionless.

'Those things are destroying your health,' she said, placing a disk on his desk and sitting across from him. 'Have you even looked in a mirror in the past couple of centuries, Beetroot?'

'Don't get snotty with me, Wing Commander, I'm not in the mood. What are the results like?'

Vinyáya licked her lips. 'Good. This year is an excellent group. Fantastic actually, some of them. There's one in particular...' she paused, running a nail along the edge of the desk, 'that I think is worth a look at.'

'Name?'

'Holly Short.'

Root coughed on his smoke. 'Pardon?'

'Holly. Short.' Vinyáya repeated. 'A girl. One of two. She wants into Recon. The Council is thinking of making her a test case.'

'You've got to be kidding me.'

'Why? Don't think a wee girlie would be up for such a strenuous career?'

'I meant that the Council would consider letting her get anywhere near Recon. Who did you have to shag for that one?'

Her face hardened. 'I want you to take her. If you offer, the Council will go for it. She's good. She'll do you proud. She'll be the biggest feather in your cap yet.'

He eyed her through the cloud of pungent smoke between them. His face was set, revealing nothing of the fact that he still head over heels. 'Alright,' he said, 'but if she messes up, I'll drop her faster than a dwarf with a firecracker. She gets one chance and that's it. Do you understand?'

'Yes,' she rose to leave, pointedly waving smoke away from her face.

'Oh, and Wing Commander, seeing as we're in the mood for giving advice,' he took a long drag on his cigar, 'would you quit dyeing your hair? It looks better silver.'

'When you quit those disgusting cigars,' she replied.

He shrugged, 'Your loss.'

'Same to you.'

She paused, her back to him, one hand on the doorknob. 'Thank you, Julius,' she said, without turning around.

He kept silent as she exited his office, but she hadn't been expecting a response. When she was gone, he stubbed his cigar until it was stringy, shapeless mash. Sitting there at his desk, the legendary Commander Root, leader of countless successful recons, fearless in the face of trolls, goblin gangsters, even armed mudmen, tried desperately not to go to pieces in the wake of one tiny elf with a little girl's smile.


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry guys, I've had this sitting on my computer for a while now... and I just kinda forgot. Anyway, ta da!! Final chapter. Yes, the fact that I copied one of my drabbles into was done on purpose!

Hope you've enjoyed it.

* * *

Chapter Six: Still

Vinyáya sat in the cafeteria, watching Lili Frond flirt with the janitor. To her right Captains Short and Kelp sat at a table, heads together as they discussed a recon operation. Vinyáya smiled to herself, allowing herself a moment of self-congratulation over the choice of Holly Short, despite her occasional hiccups.

Her smile vanished as Julius entered the cafeteria, heading single-mindedly for the coffee dispenser. It was odd to see him out of his office these days. After all, he had enough staff on hand to keep him well stocked with food and drink without his having to lift a finger.

She fiddled with her spoon, no warm feelings of self-satisfaction arising from this particular sight_. _Vinyáya sighed. If she were perfectly honest, what she felt was a gummy mix of guilt, shame, and stupidity. And, above all else, though she cringed to admit it, there was longing. Even with the apoplectic complexion. She groaned, dropping her head into her arms.

Waiting until he had left, she drained her coffee and headed for the bathroom. Watching her reflection in the wall-length mirror, she slapped herself across the face.

'Would you pull yourself together?' she asked aloud.

* * *

Blossom put her feet up on the window ledge, balancing her wine glass on her stomach. 'Frond, I wish they'd just get it over with. We all know who's going to win. The way Julius fights for that little girlie officer of his, I swear he'd recycle himself before he let them touch her. Never mind Vinyáya, backing him as always, hoping to catch his eye. Why won't the rest of them just give up already? They can't touch Short as long as Julius's threatening to chuck in his badge too.'

She takes a meditative sip of her turmeric wine, 'Maybe he's sleeping with her. Short, I mean. Otherwise why would he bother? All she's ever done is waste our tax-money.'

'No,' Olive shook her head, earrings jingling. 'I don't think he is. A) I'm pretty sure I heard Short was a lesbian. B) Julius stopped messing around centuries ago. Around the time of Vinyáya and him had their night of debauchery. I don't think he's touched another woman since.'

Blossom snorted with laughter. 'Maybe she put him off us.'

'Entirely possible,' Olive mused.

In the ensuing silence their eyes widened, meeting over the rims of their wine glasses.

'Wait...' Blossom whispered, 'you don't think that-'

'No. _No._ We would have found out about it. Someone would have seen them,' Olive shook her head vigorously, as though her personal denial would make the situation an impossibility. 'Besides, who would want to sleep with someone as scary as Vinyáya?

'Still...' Blossom let the word hang.

* * *

Vinyáya stumbled mutely into the cafeteria, desperate for something warm. Her voice was hoarse from shouting down paunchy elves in expensive suits and she swore she'd punch the next person who spoke to her before she got her coffee. Luckily, the cafeteria was empty and, cradling her mug, she sat down in blessed silence.

Her ears were buzzing and through her head ran disjointed snippets of the night's debate, making the silence around her hard to appreciate. Slowly, however, the arguments fell away until all she heard was Root's voice calmly telling the council where to stick it as he began to pull off his acorns. She chuckled quietly to herself, he acted like a red-faced buffoon, but he knew how to play the game. Oh, the look on their faces...

She smiled a little girl's smile, though she didn't know it, and a suspicious warmth grew in her stomach at the thought of his furious face. _It really must be love_, she thought, snickering, _with a face like that involved_.

Her smile died abruptly. _Where,_ she asked herself, _do these thoughts come from? It has been 670 years. Give it a rest already._

_670 years and he _still_ fights tooth and nail to keep your precious captain safe, _came yet another whisper in her ear.

_Treachery,_ fumed Vinyáya, glaring into her coffee.

'Something the matter, Wing Commander?' Too busy thinking about him, she hadn't noticed him enter. Standing beside her, Root sipped his coffee slowly, eyeing her from above. He could have taken his coffee and gone, without her ever noticing, but he too had been betrayed and so was unable to keep away, though it would only cause him pain.

She looked up at him, mutely shaking her head.

'Not at all,' she licked her lips. 'Strange to see you still here, though, Commander. Is it too late to get your secretary to bring you a drink?' She cringed inwardly. Even when she meant to be perfectly amiable, she still somehow came off sounding snippy.

'Not at all,' he echoed her, shrugging, 'I just needed a walk after all that sitting. And I've got another couple hours to put in behind the desk too, so.'

She nodded, remembering a time when he would rather have suffered death by banshee than a desk job. How the times have changed. To be fair, she knew he took the job because they needed him, not because he wanted it. She'd never seen anyone so unhappy to be promoted before.

'Lucky you,' she smiled in commiseration, trying to make up for her earlier snarkiness.

'Comes with the territory,' he shrugged. He saluted her with his mug, 'Until next time, Wing Commander.' He felt the need to leave before these few friendly words became an actual civil conversation and all hell broke loose.

Watching as he headed for the hall she wondered to herself, _why doesn't it get easier, after all these centuries, to watch him walk away?_ _Shouldn't it get easier? It's _supposed_ to get easier._

'Wait,' she called, before she realised what she was doing.

He turned, surprised, in the doorway. 'Yes?'

'Why...' Vinyáya groped about blindly, saying the first thing that came to mind, 'why do you fight so hard for her? You said one chance was all she got.'

Root blinked, taken completely by surprise. 'Because she's good,' he replied at length.

Vinyáya smirked, 'I told you so.'

'And because she reminds me of the daughter we never got to have.' Exhausted, frustrated and heartbroken, her smirk pushed him over the edge and he said more than he meant to. He spoke truth that he knew would hurt.

A little ashamed that he had let himself go, but a little proud that he had had the courage to say it, he turned the corner without another word.

Shocked that he dared to speak aloud what she'd always thought, she watched him walk away in silence. Her lower lip trembled ever so slightly but she didn't notice.

The minutes ticked by and still she sat there, staring at the empty doorway as though he were still there, simply a little hard to make out. No longer shocked, her expression had softened until it was nearly fond. It was an unconscious habit she'd developed over the years, watching spaces he had recently vacated. She empathised with them. However many years it had been since he last touched her, the space in her once occupied by him still felt raw, as though it too had only recently been vacated.

Vinyáya shook her head, coming back to herself. Finishing her coffee, she pushed away from the table and followed him out.

_This has gone on too long. I am not a coward_, she told herself as her steps faltered outside his door, _so it's time I stop acting like one. Things are getting ridiculous. _

_Enough is enough._

* * *

There is no underling running him to warn him this time and she enters without knocking.

Root looks up, eyebrows raised above an enormous cigar.

'Those things are going to kill you,' Vinyáya tells him, closing the door behind her.

'So you've said. 'Fraid that's none of your concern, however. Can I help you with something, Wing Commander?' he keeps things formal. Someone has to maintain their distance here, after all.

'Yes, actually,' she moves forward, placing her hands on his desk and leaning towards him. He makes his cigar puffing unnecessarily audible, but manages to restrain himself from actually blowing smoke in her face.

She bites her tongue, refusing to be provoked. It's a game they have been playing for too long and she has come here to put an end to it.

'If I said that I was wrong, would you take me back?'

Root swallows. Looks at her for 67 seconds exactly. One for each of the decades that have passed since the last time they touched. Somehow, the seconds seem longer.

He puts the cigar out, in an ashtray no less.

'You'd better go lock that door,' he says at last. She smiles her little girl's smile, and he knows the loss of his cigars will be worth it.

The End


End file.
